Monday, September 19, 2016

S.U.I.C.I.D.E ; ...

(**Excuse my long journal entry. I haven't had the guts to write down my feelings to this extent until now. Basically, I will be doing a fundraising memorial for my friend Kerry Brook in her name. She continues to help me even beyond the veil and I want to pass on the help to others. I will donate ALL of my commission to The Suicide Prevention Lifeline (http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/) in her name.**)

Death. How do you deal with death? I struggle, especially if it's a suicide or murder wherein it wasn't on God's timetable. (Granted, He knows all and isn't surprised, but the shock of it all is unbearable to me, a mere mortal). I feel like certain deaths stop me in my tracks and make my world come to a screeching halt.

6 years old::: My 'boyfriend' from kindergarten died in first grade. Our school planted a tree for him, sang a song (Wind Beneath My Wings, I think) and I attended his funeral. My confused lil 1st grade mind got hung up on a few things said, filled in the gaps from our school playground to his home, and I didn't talk about it or confirm anything with anyone. What I gathered was that he was playing in his backyard on a teeter-totter/seesaw, fell down and a nail went through his heart. He died and I didn't like boys or remember even talking to boys again until the 5th grade after we moved to a different state. He had a heart defect, I learned many years later, and just collapsed at home while playing.

11 years old:::My favorite aunt who doted on me, spoiled me, and let me stay with her on the farm for 10 days. But 6 months later, she went through a rough patch I didn't quite understand. She was depressed and had isolated herself to the point that no family member could get in touch with her through visit, phone call or mail. In the middle of the night or middle of the morning, my parents woke me up to call her. I was thrilled and a bit bummed when she didn't take my call. Later that day, she called back, asking, "Did you know KALI called me?" Soon thereafter she died in a fire, as a pyromaniac was taking pictures. He went to the same counselor she did, but there was evidence for a murder, suicide, and accident equally. She had changed her Will to leave everything to me and I remember stumbling over the few charred items left from her trailer, trying to wake up from the nightmare. She's still a cold case and I didn't quite grasp the entire situation at the time. I turned 12 when we were there for the funeral, read a poem I wrote for her at the funeral, and then didn't talk to anyone about it much afterwards. Around that time I was also being bullied at school for being 'fat.' Adding to these struggles were physical changes and hormones a-raging, which created the perfect storm; a trifecta for depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts. I wrote in my dairy that I wanted to die and went to a counselor once who said, "Why are you even depressed? Why are you here?" I hadn't shared about my aunt's death or the bullying, just that I felt sad and didn't know why. I have always been the kind of person who doesn't want to bother people and only shares a little bit. If you react well and I know I can trust you, I share more. If I can't or you don't react well, I stop at that depth. I stopped and never went back. I decided I needed to keep it bottled in more.

Everyone has a figurative sack full of rocks we carry around; our burden to carry. Sometimes it's sins (ours or others'), weaknesses, or disabilities that blind us, expose the bag a bit or open it to let in more weight, and make it more difficult to manage, balance, and shoulder. I've never been one for big sins, but one of my biggest demons or trials I have always had to bear is that of depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember. Many people turn to others for strength and support. I have always been the kind of person who bears it alone and after I've made it through the fire with ashes around and smoke dwindling down, then do I reach out. On rare occasions, as I step from the blinding darkness to a glimmer of light, only then do I open up. I don't want to bother people with things, but love when I can help others through their darkest hours. I don't know why it is that I always feel as though I should share the best, work on the worst, and continually look to lift and never ask for lifting myself. My MS and other diseases over the last 5 years especially have changed a big part of that within me. I used to be able to hide the tremors, blindness, deafness, physical instability, depression, anxiety, stabbing pains, dizziness, fatigue, nausea, bruises (appeared for no reason), and to an extent my insecurities.

The center of the party =) She was and is amazing!
Recently my husband and I have been going through boxes. I stumbled on some pictures and strolled down memory lane. One picture in particular I stumbled upon and posted on Facebook, tagged several friends, and messaged a few. I didn't message everyone, and reminisced over the days when things were a little simpler. 4 days later my friend committed suicide, one whom I'd tagged and just recently thought of in fleeting memories, but hadn't messaged. I worried that my recent tag had sent her into depression. I struggled with the thought that I hadn't reached out to each and every friend. I had only liked and commented on some of her things in the past year and realized I wasn't the best of friends to her. So much guilt. Only a few pictures behind this one was a picture of my dear friend Nikki. She had visited me in Utah, and she was one of the many I had talked OUT of suicide from 2004 and before. But, one time she didn't call me or our other friend like she had so many other times. In 2005 I lost 3 friends in only 6 months-two from suicide. In a short amount of time, it seemed liked death was all consuming. I thought about death, dreamed about death, mourned through the 3 deaths, and bled (menstruation) for 5 1/2 months afterwards STRAIGHT. Every day. I was exhausted and struggled considerably as I worked with abused and neglected kids. In looking back, I see that my hormones were off because of hypothyroidism, I was at the worst for my PCOS (too many cysts on my ovaries) and most likely experienced an exacerbation or relapse in my MS. I am sure I formed new brain lesions, but didn't see any specialists for my diseases. I finally did see a counselor for a bit, but then stopped because I didn't have enough money. 
You can tell why I didn't love this picture of myself, but now that Nikki is gone (behind me) I do love it.


Ironically, the only doctor I saw and trusted was a doctor who messed up, prescribed two medications that were poisoning my body, and I started to die in 2006. It was a VERY hard thing to live through. I also know that I put up a wall from the beginning of 2005 and beyond. I did not develop as close friendships as I had before this time in my life. One poor roommate, Julie, I hardly got to know because most of the time she knew me I was in the beginning stages of a serotonin syndrome. I crawled down the hall, collapsed at work, twitched in the corner as I helped kids, twitched on the floor of the mother's lounge at church and crawled out when someone else needed it more, did paperwork on my couch, had roommates get my groceries, and did paperwork on a laptop on my couch. I couldn't stand for more than 2 minutes without passing out or vomiting. My intestines were the first to stop working. Then I had huge bruises over my kidneys and my family doctor INSISTED that I was being abused. He told me the ONLY way I could get those bruises were from someone taking a bat to my back. I told him it was how I felt, but no one had hit me. And yet, I told everyone I was okay. I couldn't think very clearly towards the peak of my torture. On my birthday, my family members called me and I talked long enough for them to realize something was very WRONG. I was on my third day of pleading to God, "Heal me or kill me." It was all I could think or focus on. Apparently I was slurring my words. My brother who was doing an internship at a retirement community called my parents to say, "She sounds EXACTLY like my clients RIGHT before they die." I didn't know he called my family, but shortly after, I couldn't stand, my eyes were rolling in the back of my head and I figured, "Well, this is it. Good thing I don't have regrets." My roommates took me to the ER, they asked some questions, called my incompetent doctor, and came back to say, Well, MS can do weird things. I had regained some speech and strength and was no longer rolling my eyes in the back of my head. They couldn't explain it and sent me on my way. My brother came to visit me the following day, as did other family members. But, AGAIN, I didn't want to worry them. They had lives to get back to. I worked hard to show strength. I went to my horrible family doc. My doctor was training another doctor and kind of laughed outside the door, came in and said, "Is THIS the guy who's been abusing you? {I insisted AGAIN that I was NOT being abused. Something was wrong inside my body}. He continued to the resident/intern, "She says she has lots of weird things that happen in her body. Just explain to him." He shrugged it off and said, "You should just tell me who is hurting you." and left. The night before in the ER, the pharmacist's words rang through my head over and over. He hadn't wanted to give me the prescription my doctor gave me. He told me to ask the doctor about interactions with another medication. I had asked my doctor many months before and with the flick of his hand he said, "Eh. I know about any risks. You're fine." I forgot about that until the night in the ER and after a priesthood blessing. I stopped taking the medication and lived through it. It wasn't until later when I got a different doctor in a different city and she was SHOCKED. She couldn't BELIEVE the dosage I was on or that I survived.



The whole experience taught me 1) death isn't scary as long as you're on the Lord's side (following the commandments) 2) stand up and when you can't, ASK for help 3) some of our trials can even bless others, if we turn to God.


Which brings me to this time in my life. My last doctor's appointment, I had to fill out a lot of paperwork and the doctor first asked, "Um, you checked this box of wanting to harm yourself or die? Do I need to discuss hospitalization?" My husband jokes that I'm too honest for my own good. If someone asks me a pointed question, I simply have to answer it honestly. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Well, I'm just a LITTLE SUICIDAL." I've struggled off and on with severe depression because I feel as though I'm a burden or that things won't improve. I have learned that with MS, the brain lesions and changes in your brain can literally cause more depression. Then the changes your body experiences (not communicating with your brain, as well as the loss of abilities), cause depression. The increased depression, insomnia, worry, stress, etc. also makes MS worse. It's a vicious cycle. In looking back, I realize the times when I was the most depressed were also when my MS was at it's worst and in active demyelination (or PCOS or Hypothyroidism). A big part of my depression is in looking back to what I used to be able to do. I'm naturally a worker (my parents raised me to be), a perfectionist (pretty sure I came that way), used to take too much pride almost in finding the silver lining in a wretched situation or handling difficult situations on my own, and am a social introvert who loves to serve and be connected. All of these 'strengths' (or weaknesses, depending on how you view them) have had to be re-evaluated on my side of the mirror. The other part of my depression and anxiety is the intense stabbing pains that I've experienced in the past two years. I'm on my third medication and it still can't manage the 'suicide disease,' (Trigeminal and Occipital Neuralgia). I also jerk at different points throughout my body every minute of every day (2-5 times at least each minute-I even jerk myself awake throughout the night). I've gone from maybe jerking 20 times in small ways a day to about 1,000 - 2,000 times a day (maybe 100 times big jerks). I also feel like bugs are crawling on me a lot. My memory is eerily bad, again, as well.

The doctor turned to my husband and he confirmed, "These stabbing pains are so bad that nothing will help and she just wants the pain to end." She looked back at me, mostly satisfied and relieved, and said, "I only ask because few people ever mark that." I shrugged, laughed it off and told her the pains are bad (understatement) and I struggle from time to time with the fact that I can't do what I used to. A while after I laughed to myself by my immediate reaction I always have in awkward situations. When the doctor had asked about my suicidal check mark, I was very aware of her concern, stress, and big eyed, "UH OH. What do I do?" My knee jerk reaction was (and ALWAYS is) to not make anyone uncomfortable. I thought, "She is nervous and I've gotta make her feel better. Minimize" I quickly told her I was just a 'little suicidal,' so she didn't have to worry.  What is a LITTLE suicidal, anyway? Maybe they should ask a suicidal scale like they do pain in the hospital. On a scale of 1-10, 1 being on cloud 9 and 10 being dead...where are you? Thankfully I've never been to the point that I needed hospitalization. There have been times it's been bad enough I had to talk myself through not wanting someone else to find my body. It is just enough pause, to think of the sorrow they would experience, to keep me from doing it. Other times my depression is a level 3-like where is the chocolate? 3 trucks full, please.

I'm grateful that my husband, parents, several friends, and siblings have been there when I'm at a level 9. And they've been there to celebrate the times I've been on cloud 9. I wish it was easier to talk about a level 9 pain emotionally as it is to admit a level 9 physically. It's funny how sometimes we rate and rank different things in our life, but often miss the boat entirely. My friend KB didn't believe she had hope or that she was ENOUGH. Beautiful enough. It was SHOCKING to me that she, Kerry Brook, the gorgeous red goddess, ever had a skewed view of herself. Labeling herself as a 1 when she was a 10! I told her when I lived near her that I thought she was talented, beautiful, and a blessing. But, I didn't tell her enough. I feel the same nagging, gnawing lack of self-esteem about myself. Too many women rate themselves a 1 when they are 10s. WHY do we let the little liar, satan, paint a distorted picture of our bodies, which he covets? WHY do we feel like we aren't enough when Christ says with him we are ENOUGH.

A while ago I posted about the WIDOW's MITE. My absolute favorite painting is James C. Christensen's Widow's Mite. I thought I understood the widow's mite. I thought I understood sacrificing, giving the last of all you had, and tithing. I have since understood this principle on a much deeper level. More than I could have ever understood, more than I would ever wish on another person. Financially, emotionally, socially, physically. In Luke 21, Jesus looked up, "and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury. And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two mites. And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast in unto the offerings of God: but she of her penury hath cast in all the living that she had." The mite was the smallest coins in circulation in Palestine (lepta). The lepton was a bronze coin worth 1/400 of a shekel (between 1/8th and 1/4 of a penny). Two lepta (mites) weren't even enough to buy one simple meal. Mark witnessed Jesus proclaiming, "This poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living." (Mark 12:43-44; Chieko N. Okazaki)

Maybe you have had to give your ALL. Not just your abundance, but even your wants, your dreams, your hopes have been asked, challenged, and questioned. Maybe you too have felt hopeless, helpless, and worthless. It may seem like nothing will ever change. You may only see darkness and pain ahead, even death looming over you as the widow may have. I am SO grateful to two friends, Kira and Christina, who have been incredibly supportive, loving, understanding and open. I have struggled immensely with the news of my friend's death and shared anger, frustration, sorrow, fear, and asked many questions. They didn't push me away, tell me to calm down, or minimize my pain. I am sure my emotions would have been so much more difficult had I found out after the memorial or weeks after her passing. I can jump to the worst possible scenario in a second flat and appreciate their openness and love so early on. It was a gift to share the anguish, reminisce through wonderful memories, and acknowledge the pain that shook my world, which I am certain pales in comparison to their grief. I later shared with others that I was struggling and have literally felt prayers. I still cry daily for KB, but it is now bearable. Today I feel like I can keep going. I have considered what I would tell KB if I could go back a week or two. Some of these thoughts I shared with her when we lived near each other, but I am afraid I didn't tell her enough lately. I feel like she is happier and comforting me through my struggles, telling me to take my own advice. Kerry Brook and all of my dear friends,

You ARE beautiful. You are made in the image of God (and our Heavenly Mother). If you can't see or see a distorted horror house reflection, get out, throw away that mirror and start seeing yourself through God's eyes. Pray for help to really see you for YOU.
You ARE enough. Even if all you have are two measly mites. What you have to offer is MORE than ENOUGH. It is exactly what you need to get through this life and come out conqueror.
There IS HOPE. There is ALWAYS hope. If you can't find it or feel it, look up instead of down. Reach out instead of pulling inside and hiding. There is more hope, light, life, and peace than you can imagine.
You HAVE HELPED me and continue to do so. I think we underestimate our influence on others and the reason behind our paths crossing. The last few years I've had help from a few VERY DEAR and inspired friends! A few especially don't even know that they have helped me at the very moment that I was pleading with God for an ounce of light and hope. In fact, I still hold onto those physical memories or tokens of generosity years later whenever I start to allow doubt to creep in and consume.
You have so much WORTH. (D&C 18:10, Proverbs 31:10, Luke 12:7)



Don't give up. I am here. I love you.

I feel like Christ says the same three things above and how many times do I try to shoulder the burden alone before I turn to him? What if Kerry Brook had reached out to me and we could have shared in the sorrow, I could have empathized with the raw pain, we could have cried and comforted each other. I can't live on what ifs and should've s. KB has taught me a lot, as have many friends and family. Sometimes just one step, both figuratively and literally, is too much for me. I've learned to rest, allow myself to slow down (I mean accept God's lesson to slow down), and not beat myself up over every fall, fail, and frailty.



I am sad that I can't help KB, but I am going to donate all my commissions to the Suicide Prevention Lifeline in her name and honor. It's interesting that this month's Ensign is about suicidal thoughts ("Every Human Soul is Precious," the top box of lds.org). https://www.lds.org/preventingsuicide/?lang=eng I may not influence any other person for good, but KB has definitely helped me. Thank you to those of you who have helped me along the way, especially those of you who have not been judgmental or critical of me, but have loved me despite my myriad flaws and walls.

A tornado touched down in a town near us and we went to see some of the damage. Sometimes people cross our paths in a calm moment of our lives and are there when everything is turned upside down and broken. 

Here is the link to the jewelry that will support The Suicide Prevention Lifeline. In fact, this afternoon I just learned that if you buy the $29 looks that give back, you will ALSO give back to various cancer awareness programs (until September 21st). https://lafsalott.origamiowl.com/shop/party/297756

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

WFPB Update


I've been eating Whole Food, Plant Based for a while now...although I say that with a little shrug. There have been some major slip ups and derailments that caused some major shifts and redirects too many times to count. Every failure is a flop that leads me closer to my mastery of this way of eating and uniting my soul a bit more, though. I'm learning quite a bit about myself, the journey, and this body of mine.

Consistency is key and NOT setting a deadline for my 'success' are pretty vital to me in particular.
I suck at moderation and have to cut it out entirely so my cravings don't creep up and captivate me.

Being "CASUAL" leads me to some "CASUALTIES." Melodramatic, I know. I haven't actually had meat since Easter, so I'm good on animal casualties. But, my body falling a part a little more feels like a casualty.

Timing will NEVER be perfect. I may never perfect this way of eating. But it's all about PROGRESS, NOT PERFECTION.

I do know when I eat this way, I lose weight, my intestines work better, and my stabbing pains & heat intolerance are a bit better. (I'm saying I can handle 71 degrees and lower and the power of a MILLION knives/axes reduces to 909,099). Every little improvement is a big deal for me, though. So, I'll take it! I've seen how others REVERSE their heart disease and no longer need bypass surgery or how others REVERSE their diabetes and no longer need ANY medications. I'm not expecting something as drastic quickly, but I do expect that positive results will follow.

I've learned for me to be successful LONG TERM, I have to have 3 key ingredients:

  1. Purpose
  2. Plan
  3. SuPPort
Without a significant purpose beyond 'losing weight,' 'feeling great,' and tapping into the innate, I would fail every time. My health has declined so drastically that I am desperate for any slight improvement. No better purpose than when all of your sense become desensitized and your body matches the age of a 90 year old in your 30s. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone and hopefully others have a greater purpose to drive such a big change. 

PLAN, PLAn, PLan, Plan, plan! When my fridge and pantry get down to only two compliant ingredients that require cutting or cooking, I fail. I inevitably turn to the easy crackers or sugary treats for the quick pick me up. Having plenty of options that are easy, easily accessible, and don't take too much brain power at 7 pm has led to success. Batch cook, menu plan, and have back ups. 

SuPPorT~ I have the support of my husband, but he adds meat, milk, cheese, butter, etc to his foods. (Which I'm okay with...this is my journey). I needed extra help from others eating this way and found several on Facebook. It's been a huge blessing. I also have to involve God along the way and I am amazed at the difference it makes. 

Here are some of my Instagram (blessedms) posts specifically:

(Some were failures, like this steel cut oats with cinnamon and dried fruit)

(Because of my limitations, I use some processed foods. I hope to eventually cut out all, but until then I have found some good stuff). 


 



(I had 5 grain cereal or steel cut oats every morning for breakfast, until I realized I'm reacting to the oats. I found my LEAP results and sure enough...oats. =( Since cutting it out, my rash and issues cleared up within a few days).



My amazing hubby was able to prepare a good amount of food beforehand so I could just pull out what I needed and reheat in the microwave.